Thoughts and Scenes

It's like overhearing whispers Above the rustle of fallen leaves and twigs Breaking under two pairs of feet apiece Of bachelors and spinsters And remembering, it's the dead of winter A mixing of elements. Go figure You turn a pillow and sleep some more But the beauty of it is that you lived And dreams would have come before People sitting under the shade of a tree In the front yard, steadying hands Over the flames of a sputtering fire Swapping silent reminiscences Over good times that could have been But lost over wisps of nonsensical chatter Brethren like thieves in the streets In verbal subterfuge, flashing daggers And hissing Judas pursing lips to make a kiss Currents of had-I-knowns running deep In the rivers of memories about the departed When a log splits and makes a flare You dare think it's because you stared Unlike you, I wasn't there too, in the cabin Not standing over a pan But like you, I could also spin yarn Tell the story of two mountain trout in the grease Developing a crispy gold tan And the girl, followed by the lugs And, of course, hook nose That hefty door of a man with a Greek name And a sinister mane Saying you should have stayed in your lane